Every Body Lies
by AmandaLyn111
Summary: An exquisite mansion, secluded on its private island a few miles from the mainland, was the perfect spot to hold an intimate wedding... until the festivities were interrupted by a murder- and a case of whodunnit? [M rating is a precaution at the moment, later chapters will have some steamier material.]
1. Chapter 1: A Stiff on the Settee

Bryna Donoghue examined herself in the ornate mirror and decided that while she might not be the most beautiful woman at tomorrow's festivities, she sure as hell wouldn't be the ugliest. At a most average height of five feet, six inches, she never really had to complain about being too short, and still she was able to wear heels around most men without being taller. She had been graced with an hourglass figure and curves that many a woman envy, but if she wasn't careful with her of chocolate intake, she risked having a bit of a muffin top when she wore her favorite skinny jeans. However, in her experience, she noted more often than not that men didn't mind a little extra woman to grab a hold of, especially if an extra pound or two meant her bust filled out quite nicely.

She could thank her Irish ancestors for wavy, auburn hair, fair skin, and elvish looks. It was her mother though, which she got her piercing blue eyes from. She knew the smokey shadow she applied to her eyelids called attention to them, revealing their color to be like the depths of the sea. As contrast, her hair, pulled back in a gem-studded hairpin, spilled like muted fire down her back. The dress she wore was a silken, forest green. It's cut was simple, yet classy, with its off the shoulder sleeves and straight skirt that fell right below the knee. Although, the slit on the right side that reached almost to the top of her thigh whispered of something more sultry.

Yes, Bryna thought as she twirled around for one last good look at herself, she was almost stunning. Any man would be lucky to have her on his arm. And yet, at twenty-three, she found herself in another bridesmaid's dress, hopelessly readjusting her breasts to maximize her cleavage, and wondering what she was going to do with herself now that one of the last of her best friends was getting married and she was no where closer to finding herself a man-or much of a stable job for that matter. Of course, her mother would tell anyone that would listen-and many who didn't care to-that her daughter had made a mistake when she doubled majored in English and Fine Arts. The woman would never understand how anyone could manage to get a degree in something that should be considered just a hobby. In all fairness, she hardly understood much about her daughter's personality anyway.

Bryna's mind was sharp and she was very perceptive. She had been told for most of her life that she should go into one of the sciences and find a steady career there. While learning in general interested her, she only dabbled in some of the sciences more than anything. She had no drive to be a doctor, and while some of the more interesting sides of chemistry intrigued her, she had no notion of spending the rest of her life cooped up in a lab. For her, the written word and the arts let her mind escape her daily life. She loved to create, have her hands messy in some project, and the vast amount of books she had acquired over the years allowed her imagination the freedom to travel the world, and far beyond. Although, she still had no idea how she was going to support herself on pure passion alone.

"Bryna? Is that you in here?" A quiet voice called from behind the door.

There was a soft knocking, and then a heart shaped face, framed by straight black hair, peeked through the crack as the door opened.

"Oh Maddie!" she exclaimed, "Thank the heavens you're here. Being all by myself, I was starting to lose my sanity."

Bryna hugged her laughing friend, then held Madeline Everett out at arm's length to survey her. The other woman had a year and a half on Bryna, yet she still managed to look like she was in high school. If people claimed Bryna had some features of a faery, then they would think Madeline was a pixie just pulled from the forest. Her hair was cut in a short bob that only added to the roundness of her face, her dainty noise pointed slightly upwards, her eyes were a dewy grey and very wide, and she had a small sprinkling of freckles across her high cheek bones. She was the shortest of Bryna's friends, and yet her slim, tiny body still seemed to be willowy. She had the grace of a forest maiden, no doubt, and it seemed only fitting that she found her heart's joy in dancing.

"I don't know how you stay so young. I'm already vigorously applying moisturizer every night to try and keep the crow's feet away," Bryna said, holding Madeline's face between her hands and turning it side to side as she examined it.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be. The rest of the dancers in my troupe still make cracks about child labor laws," Madeline said on a sigh.

"Oh, it's been too long," Bryna announced, slinging her arm over her friend's shoulders.

A second later, Madeline broke away from Bryna's grasp to head back over to the door, picking up a tray she had placed down outside of it when she knocked. Bryna's eyes widened at the champagne and two flutes that sat on the silver, mirrored surface.

"I thought we'd start the night off with a toast," Madeline said, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. Never one to turn down a glass of champagne, Bryna readily obliged, feeling quite relaxed as they sat down in the ornate, cushioned chairs and gossiped like schoolgirls.

What a pair we make, Bryna thought, as she looked across the room and into the floor length mirror next to her oak dresser, studying their reflection. Madeline's dress was violet, the other color scheme of tomorrow's wedding, and cut completely different. It had a wide-strap halter top, and it's skirt was shorter and puffed out with lacy underskirts. Bryna had to give the bride credit, as far as the bridesmaid's dresses went, these dresses weren't only what the bride wanted, but actually suited the women wearing them as well.

"Who would have thought that after two year's apart," Madeline broke Bryna's thoughts, "we'd be standing in some fancy room of a glorified mansion on the eve of Erin's wedding?"

But that was exactly where they found themselves, and for that very reason. The wedding was being held in a building that had so much brick and stained glass that Bryna decided it was more of a miniature castle than a mansion. Even more romantic, it sat upon a tiny island in one of the bays along the Northern East Coast, completely secluded from the rest of the world. Coming from a family of very old money and marrying a man from the same, Erin had no problems paying for the very fairy tale wedding she had always desired, having rented out the whole castle and staff for the weekend to hold her private wedding.

"Anyway," Bryna started to nudge Madeline along, "we better get downstairs to meet the wedding planner from hell and let her give us a once over. Everything would _just be ruined_ if one stitch was out of place or our hairstyles were not to her liking." Bryna sneered as the image of the crotchety older woman that plagued her thoughts. "Heaven knows how she ever became known as one of the best in the business."

"Now Bryna, you keep that temper of yours in check," Madeline scolded. "I didn't find her a bit mean. She's just a little strict, is all. She has to be to make Erin's day perfect."

"Of course you wouldn't," Bryna scoffed.

The two left Bryna's guest bedroom, arm in arm and padded down the thickly carpeted stairs at the end of the hallway. When they descended down into the Great Entrance Hall, heels clicking against the white marble flooring, there wasn't a soul in sight.

"That's strange," Bryna commented, "last I heard, Ms. Acker was complaining up a storm down here. It was quite a ruckus. I thought she'd be down here arguing for ages."

"Now, now," Madeline clucked her tongue.

"Maybe she's gone to the ballroom to harass Thad about his horrible waltzing. Although, for once, I'll have to agree with her on that point."

Madeline rolled her eyes at Bryna.

The two headed towards the ballroom at the back of the castle. The reception was to take place there, and exaggerations aside, the wedding planner had spent many hours in the room with the groom tying to perfect the routine for the couple's first dance. As they passed the castle's library though, Bryna noticed the door was slightly ajar, and as always, her curiosity got the better of her.

"Wait," Bryna pulled on Madeline's arm to halt her. "I want to see who's in here. Maybe it's that cute groomsman I've been told about. Might as well take advantage of being all dressed up, right?" Bryna winked suggestively at her friend, as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

When she stepped into the room, Bryna was disappointed, for the only other inhabitant was much older than she had been hoping and by the white collar at his throat, she easily recognized him as the Reverend who was to oversee the marriage. As much as she thought Reverend Bodee was a nice, caring man, he still reminded Bryna of her younger, Bible School days when annoying and awkward were synonyms of her name. She swore her personality regressed ten years every time she talked to the man due to his condescending tone, so she really rather avoid it. Plus, the setting screamed "do not disturb," since the room was mostly dark, just the dim light of a candelabra shining out next to his chair.

It wasn't until Madeline's shrill of a scream pounded in her ear that Bryna saw the blood. Well, not so much the blood itself, but the shine it created against the black suit as had ran down the Reverend's chest and pooled on his thigh. But it was the knife that had been jammed into his rib cage, near his heart, that told Bryna something had gone horribly wrong.


	2. Chapter 2: A Wolf Among Sheep

Bryna moved with calculated speed, but was extremely careful not to touch anything that wasn't necessary. Since she had been reading crime novels since before she could drive, she felt that if any civilian was going to step up and be competent in this situation, it would have to be her, because it was definitely not going to be the hyperventilating Madeline.

In ten strides, Bryna was next to the body. The blood on the Reverend's lapels looked more coagulated than she had previously thought, which didn't bode well. Her humanity and respect for the dead begged her to take the knife out of the Reverend's chest, but she stopped herself. Her fingerprints were already on the doorknob and it would be downright incriminating for them to be found on the murder weapon as well.

Bryna placed her fingers on the crook of the Reverend's neck, right underneath his jawbone, searching for a pulse. She also bent forward, placing her cheek near his lips, searching for any signs of breath. The clammy skin underneath her fingertips remained still, and she heard no gasping, felt no faint breeze against her face. There were no signs of life, just the slight scent of bitter almond lingering on his lips from his last sip of coffee.

Knowing there was nothing to be done for the man, other than to do no further damage to the crime scene, Bryna quickly stepped back out of the library, pushing Madeline out with her, and slammed the door.

"Is he...?" Madeline squeaked out between ragged gasps for air.

"I'm afraid so," Bryna quietly replied. She hung her head. She had never really liked the man, something about him had always given her the creeps, but nobody deserved to die like that.

"What the hell is going on?" a man yelled as he ran down the hallway towards them. "Who screamed?" He halted as he neared the library doors and saw the shocked state Madeline was in. He then turned towards Bryna, seeing as she was the only one in a possible state to answer some questions. "What happened?"

Bryna had to tilt her head upwards slightly to look at the man's face. She estimated he probably had at least a half foot on her. His frame was slender, but beneath his bright blue shirt and dark washed jeans, Bryna could tell there was toned strength there. It was mirrored in his bronze eyes, whose gaze was hard like the very metal. Fear prickled at the base of Bryna's spine for a moment. She hoped that this man was not the murderer, for he looked like he could easily do away with her as well. And yet, there was a part of her that was unafraid and urged to reach out, to touch the midnight waves that had been swept behind his earlobe.

The sound of another set of footsteps echoing down the hall broke the staring match between them.

"I asked," the man's voice was low and dangerous, "what happened?"

He stepped towards the door, his hand reaching for the doorknob. Bryna jumped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Don't," she said. She wasn't sure who this man was, and she definitely wasn't letting him traipse around the crime scene and destroy any valuable evidence.

There was a flash of anger in the man's eyes, and Bryna braced herself to be shoved aside, but he was the one who was pushed as another man barreled into him.

"Sorry," the second man panted, "the scream startled me. Unfortunately I wasn't as quick on my feet as Alex here was, and I managed to trip over my pool cue trying to get out the door."

Bryna watched as Lucas Massey, a longtime childhood friend of hers, leaned on the man, holding himself up as he caught his breath. Although, when he caught sight of the glazed look on Madeline's face, he went over to bundle her up in his arms, letting her sob into his chest. More worried, now that he realized the situation was graver than he thought, he peered at Bryna curiously, his eyes full of confusion.

Bryna stared into the pale blue eyes of her friend. Lucas too had known Reverend Bodee since before his bright blonde hair had faded to the dusky golden color of wheat it was now. How could she even begin to tell him what was behind the door she carefully guarded?

"We need to alert the authorities," Bryna finally stated.

"Why?" She turned to look into the cool eyes of the man hovering near her. There was a fierce challenge in them, which had Bryna straightening her spine.

"I'm afraid there's been a murder."

"All right, is this the lot?" an authoritative voice rang out across the room.

"Yes, all accounted for," a second man quietly spoke from behind the first.

Bryna surveyed the lounge where everyone had been gathered. There were a little over a dozen people scattered around the room. The couches were plentiful and overly cushioned, and with the way the fire crackled in the hearth, the setting could have been quite nice and cozy, if everyone's mood wasn't so dismal.

Across from the leather armchair she sat on the edge of, Lucas still had his arm around Madeline, trying his best to comfort her. At the other end of the couch, Thaddeus Bryant mirrored the consoling pose, letting Erin sniffle against his shoulder. On the suede, L-shaped sofa in the front corner, closest to the door, Priscilla Acker and Aubrey Bryant, mother of the groom, sat with their heads together. Bryna was sure that the two women were doing enough gossiping for the entire group. Quentin and Dahlia Juniper, Erin's parents and a couple that had been almost as important in Bryna's life as her own parents, were standing, stoic, at the small wet bar in the back of the room. Bryna could see Dahlia's hand visibly shaking and Quentin's knuckles were white as he held his tumbler in a death grip. Two middle-aged women in starched outfits embroidered with the house's crest on their shoulder, stood near the ruddy-faced, quiet man Bryna had briefly met when she arrived on the island. Seeing that he was the owner of the mansion, she assumed he was the women's employer.

A movement from in front of the picturesque windows that lined the east facing wall of the house, caught Bryna's attention. Alex, the name played through her mind. She had done the math, and she was certain that the moody man was the second groomsman, a college friend of Thad's. He was quite handsome, she couldn't deny that. Although, she didn't know if his looks were as "deadly" as Erin had described. Turning, as if he had felt Bryna's gaze on his back, their eyes locked. Bryna felt that tingle at the base of her spine again-though this time the sensation had to do with more than just fear-and as much as it hurt her pride, she quickly adverted her eyes. Then again, she decided, deadly might have been the perfect choice.

"I'm afraid I'm not one for sugar coating things," the commandeering voice rang out again. "What happened here today was murder, and there is no way to downplay the severity of that fact."

Bryna couldn't help but like the man. Maybe it was his no nonsense, brisk attitude. Maybe it was the way he simply introduced himself as Inspector Claude Brown, showed everyone his badge, then ushered them into the lounge, much like a sheepdog herds the flock. Maybe it was because he was a stout man who didn't seem to care that wearing two shades of khaki was a fashion faux-pas. It was probably a mix of these things, but most importantly, he was the man in charge, and she knew if she was going to satisfy her curiosity and keep current on the facts of the case, he was the man she needed to get close to.

"If you're wondering why I've gathered you in here-" Inspector Brown started.

"Excuse me sir," Quentin Juniper interrupted. "I hate to be rude, but I fail to understand how the authorities, having just been alerted of the crime, have been able to send a representative over already."

"Allow me to explain," Rusty, who was used to placating many a distressed guest staying in his mansion, stepped forward.

"No need for that Mr. Marsden," Inspector Brown waved him aside. "You see, for insurance purposes, since the island is X distance away from the mainland, when paying guests are here, so must be a representative of the police force. Usually, it's a boring job of brainless babysitting, and I was most disappointed by having drawn the short straw for duty this weekend... but it seems my time here shall be much more interesting than previously expected."

"My goodness," Priscilla Acker gasped. "Murder is not something one should find _amusing._"

"I beg to differ," Inspector Brown chided, his demeanor not even dented by the woman's snobbish tone. "I would say you are very fortunate to find yourself with an Inspector who is engrossed in the case, seeing as one of the very people standing in this room is the killer."

Glass shattered against the floor. Everyone's heads whipped around to see the shocked look on Dahlia's face.

"You must be mistaken," her words were but a whisper.

"I'm afraid I'm not," the Inspector began, taking advantage of the sudden silence from the crowd. "Every person known to be on this island-every known _alive_ person, that is- is in this room. The rest of the staff and guests were not due in until tomorrow morning."

"Couldn't it have been an outside job?" Thad offered up.

"I cannot rule it out entirely," Inspector Brown rubbed his chin. "However, it's extremely unlikely. One, such stabbing is a crime of passion, usually not seen from a hired hit. Two, I've been walking the grounds for most of the evening, and a foreign boat would hardly have gone undetected. You see, the island has two boats that dock to it's pier. One, almost a ferry, is currently at the mainland waiting to pick up tomorrow's guests. The other, a smaller vessel used mostly for emergencies, has had it's motor smashed quite good. Which means, the murderer is stuck here among us.

"And that is why I gathered you all in here quickly. I need to determine alibis before anyone has time to cook up a false story. Then I'll take individual statements from each of you. Everything else can wait until morning, when more of the force arrives."

"I hate to be the bearer of even more bad news," Alex's deep voice floated from the windows. He pointed out them and towards the sky. Even in the twilight, it was easy to see the clouds gathering and the sky bruising with the darkness of the coming onslaught. "But, there will be no boats sailing on these waters tomorrow."


End file.
